


Strange Pairs

by moonflowers



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Almost all of these are just the two of them waking up together and being happy, Bathing/Washing, Domestic, Fluff, Hair-pulling, M/M, Modern AU, Potato peeling shirtless Flint, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: Collection of Flinthamilton one shots and drabbles from Tumblr.





	1. Breathing Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 - Things you said with no space between us

“I should be getting back soon,” said Thomas, though he made no move to leave the bed.

“Yes, you should,” James agreed, though he didn’t move either.

The morning was early still, but being a habitually early riser, it wouldn’t be long before Thomas was missed in his own home. Miranda would spin something to cover his absence if he didn’t appear at breakfast, certainly, but it would do no harm to practice caution. The two of them had spent the night in James’ rooms, but now the sun was coming up, thin and watery pale through the curtains, light breeze coming through the open window and making them stir. A gull cried outside, and Thomas was tempted to make some crack about it being the nightingale not the lark, but it would only have sounded trite. The lodgings were so different from his own home, draped in heavy silks and brocade and rigid with dark panelling, but their simplicity was freeing, much in the way that being with James was freeing. Not that he or what they shared was by any means simple, but the lieutenant was forthright - he spoke plainly and honestly, with none of the fuss or hat-tipping or gilding the lily that Thomas had grown accustomed to in society. 

“It would be easier for me to take my leave, if some brute hadn’t tossed my clothing quite so far out of reach,” Thomas said, forehead pressed to James’ and breath warm between them.

“I would apologise, if I believed you meant it,” their noses touched, and James pressed a soft smile of a kiss just to the side of his mouth. Thomas’ hand came up to rest on his jaw, the barest trace of roughness under his fingertips where James hadn’t had the time to shave the evening before in all their eagerness to be together.

“Mm,” Thomas hummed in vague agreement, let James continue to dot a kiss to his cheek, his neck, back to his mouth. “Will Miranda and I have the pleasure of your company at the Johnson’s this evening?”

James frowned, his lips thin and brow deeply creased. “I haven’t been invited.”

“No,” Thomas said, “but we are well enough acquainted with them that no one would bat an eye. I think they’ll like you. And they do throw excellent parties.”

James gave a soft huff of laughter into Thomas’ shoulder. “You seem awfully keen to convince me.”

“I am,” Thomas admitted it willingly, “an evening without your company, even if only in some small measure, is an evening wasted.”

“Is that so?” James blinked at him, still sometimes taken aback by the easy manner in which Thomas would say such things. “In that case, I might allow myself to be convinced.”

Thomas smiled and hauled him in closer still, their skin damp with the past few hours spent in each other’s company, sleep-warm chests together and legs entangled in the sheets. James’ hair had come free, tousled gingery curls hanging loose, and Thomas absently ran the ends through his fingers as they breathed each other in. Preparing himself to finally get out of bed, he ducked to press one last kiss to the freckled skin of James’ shoulder, before the two of them would have to cover up again, button themselves up again, cloak themselves from watchful eyes. But he would see James later, and for the time being, that knowledge was enough to soothe away any bitterness.


	2. Morning

Seven months it had been, and James still wasn’t used to the silence left behind in the absence of the sea. Though really silence wasn’t accurate by any stretch. There were the trees, great tall pines brushing needles in the morning breeze and all manner of birds calling to each other from their boughs. The chickens too, somewhat less vocal but there all the same, clucking thickly to each other in their still dark coop, the goat shuffling in her pen. As the sun rose, the wood of the house they’d built would shift and creak with the warmth, similar, in its way, to the boards of a ship. And the sound of another breathing next to him was vastly different from his time as Flint - whether at sea or on land, he’d usually slept alone and shut away where possible.They were not unwelcome changes, just ones that had not yet managed to undo a decade of customs and habit. The last in particular, was more dear to him than he knew how to give voice to. 

In time, the pale grey and pink of dawn gave way to the thick yellow of sun behind the curtains, Thomas still slumbering at his side and leg thrown over James’ as if to prevent him leaving. As if he ever could. Unable and unwilling to help himself, his hand drifted down to settle in Thomas’ hair, stroking soft down to the nape of his neck.

“Up with the dawn again I see, Captain,” said Thomas, eyes still closed and breath warm on James’ chest.

“It would seem so, my Lord.” The titles were bestowed with no weight behind them anymore, but with a resigned and good humoured levity, a well worn private joke of sorts.

“I believe I may need to re-educate you on the virtues of getting a later start to the day, my love,” Thomas said through a yawn, shifting beside him under the sheets, warm rough hand coming up to pat James’ chest as though he were a well-loved if slightly simple dog, “if only on occasion.”

“And I believe you’ve already attempted to do so more than once,” said James, “but it was a habit of mine long before I met you.” Perhaps one day he’d again be able to sleep past the dawn, but even if that day never came, he couldn’t begrudge Thomas a long morning in bed. By God he’d earned it.

“Well then, I shall simply have to keep at it, and hope one day it takes hold.” Though he didn’t seem poised to do anything of the sort at that moment; eyes still closed and voice rough with sleep, body lax and heavy against James’.

“Noted.”

“Good.” Thomas somehow managed to haul himself up far enough to press a sleepy kiss to James’ neck before slumping back down again.

James smiled fondly down at him, and listened to the sounds of the world waking around them. No longer the rush of waves hitting the shore or the hull of his ship, no wind snapping sails or gulls crying. He had no need of any more ‘what ifs,’ thoughts of how things might or should have been, because he had this, he had Thomas, and no further need of the sea.


	3. Potatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also mostly lena221b‘s fault, for helping to bring the notion of shirtless, potato peeling Flint into existence. 
> 
> Some sort of AU where they accidentally stumble across Thomas at sea somehow and rescue him? Idk.

When Thomas woke he was alone in James’ cabin, still pressed up against the wall out of habit, even though there was more than enough room in the bunk now it’s other occupant had vacated it. Rain was still falling heavy against the window, but the wind had dropped, the ship going relatively steady through the night. Knowing he’d be unable to sleep any longer, between the ghastly weather and the unease left in the wake of James’ disappearance, he went in search of him. After setting his clothing to rights, he let himself out of the cabin, moving slow in an attempt to find his bearings on the unfamiliar vessel. Fortunately it wasn’t long before he stumbled across Mr Silver, who Thomas liked but didn’t trust as far as he could throw him, who shook his head in exasperation and pointed him in the direction of the galley. Bemused, Thomas thanked him and followed his direction.

Sure enough, James was seated in the galley, a rough sack at his feet and a pot of peeled potatoes at his side. He hadn’t fully redressed after he’d left the bunk, missing his both his shirt and his boots. The physical differences between the man sitting before him and the one Thomas had met several years previous hit him again, more so now than when they’d been reunited mere hours ago. His hair was shorter than when they first knew each other, curling about his chin rather than falling down over his shoulder, earring catching the glow of the lone candle. His chest and arms had thickened further still with muscle, more freckled from the sun and more scarred from Lord knew what hardships. The knife in his hand flashed, his chest shone with the damp sweat of a turbulent dream in a bad night’s sleep cut abruptly short.

His eyes flickered briefly up to Thomas before turning back to his task, a short, heavy breath of resignation. “So you found me.”

“Apparently so,” Thomas said as he watched him at work. “I imagine you’re something of an rarity.”

James narrowed his eyes. “I imagine I am. But how so?”

“I find it hard to believe there are a great many captains of ships who leave their cabins in the middle of the night to indulge in secret potato peeling.”

“It is a kind of grim self indulgence I suppose,” James said with a wry twist of his mouth. “It isn’t something I let myself do all that often.”

Thomas said nothing more for the moment, but picked up a knife and sat next to him, shoulders not quite touching, as they worked their way through the remainder of the potatoes. Thankfully, James didn’t comment on where he might have picked up a skill he certainly hadn’t possessed when they’d last seen each other. The silence between them was loaded, but James would speak when he wanted to, and Thomas pressing him would do neither of them any credit.

“It’s the most effective form of distraction I’ve come across,” he said at length, deftly flicking the peel into a waiting bucket.

“It’s certainly a productive one.” Thomas said lightly.

“It’s something I do when I wish to avoid being alone with my thoughts. I-” James swallowed, throat working as he searched for the words, before trying again. “I woke up, and you were there, and I - it seems impossible, Thomas.” He spoke his name reverently, softer and more blessed to Thomas’ ears than it ever had been before.

“I know,” said Thomas, “and yet…” He felt his own voice tremble in response. Neither of them had yet got past the sheer shock of seeing each other again, the sadness and joy of it still held at bay by tremulous boundaries threatening to break and give way at the slightest push. Though they’d fallen into each other’s arms without question and fallen asleep side by side, talking about it was another matter entirely. “I understand though, believe me I do. I just don’t think I have the words for it yet.”

“You, unable to find the words?” James arched an eyebrow at him. “Surely not.” It was said straight faced, but all the same there was the slightest lift in his voice, the barest hint of good humour that belied the man he once knew. That he still knew, thank God.

The silence after that was a more comfortable one, shoulders now touching as they made their way through the potatoes together, knuckles bumping every so often as they reached into the sack. There was a great deal more to be said and done before they knew each other properly again, that much was certain, but even the smallest of steps counted as progress.


	4. Wake Up (Modern AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you
> 
> I wrote two different fills for this prompt because I’m indecisive. This is a modern AU, and the next one is canonverse. Both fluffy as hell.

James was always left feeling drowsy after sex, content to sprawl out and bask next to whoever had shared his bed for as long as time allowed. Thomas, however, tended to leap up as soon as his breathing had returned to normal, leaving James with a quick kiss and light smack on the shoulder or his arse, mind already on something else.   
That evening in particular, James was reluctant to move. Waves were breaking on the shore outside, palm trees casting long shadows across their swanky hotel room - which the charity had put them up in for the weekend while Thomas talked more rich idiots into donating to the cause - warm and blissfully comfortable. He’d never imagined the Bahamas would be to his taste, but James felt strangely at peace, lulled by the ocean and the weight of Thomas beside him. He stretched out in the sheets, enjoying the pleasant ache still sitting across his lower back, eyes shut, dosing but not asleep. Although he was pretending to be, because Thomas was currently draped over his back, kissing soft at his neck and shoulders and it was nice and if he admitted he was awake he’d stop.

“I need you to wake up,” Thomas said, lips brushing the hair at the nape of James’ neck, “because I can’t do this without you.”

It was the absurdity of that statement that got James to give up his charade. He snorted, and rolled heavily over onto his back to find Thomas watching him in amusement. “Yes you bloody well can,” he said, unimpressed. “You can talk anyone into anything, Thomas, and you know it.” Which was precisely why James knew he’d be out of the ludicrously comfortable bed and into his suit in the next few minutes, before he even realised he’d agreed to anything.

“Alright, I probably could,” Thomas admitted with a smile, rocking back to sit on his heels, “but I’d much prefer to have you there all the same.” He traced his fingers gently up and down James’ chest, catching on the hair. “I always work best with you at my side, darling.”

Yes, that and James knew he found it funny to whisper various scandals concerning the people present in his ear, along with any number of filthy things he had planned for later on when they were alone again. That, he supposed, did have it’s merits. Although James was as of yet unconvinced that Thomas resting his hand on his arse as they chatted to patrons just to watch one or two of the more stuffy guests clutch at their pearls was quite so entertaining. “Fine,” he sighed, and drew himself up to rest on his elbows, “if I must, _Christ.”_ Though his sighing and muttering was mostly for show. In truth, he loved watching Thomas at work, the way he’d win people over with a clever mix of charm and fact and plain enthusiasm. And he looked ever so good in a suit. 

“Thank you dearest,” Thomas leant down to kiss him properly, the taste of James’ skin still on his tongue. “And I did mean it, you know,” he said quietly, into the space between their lips, “having you there makes me feel twice the man.”

“A sentiment I can understand,” James said, tilting his head up to kiss him again.

Before their lips had so much as brushed, Thomas had hopped off the bed and made for the en suite, James left staring at his arse in bewilderment after his sudden departure. “Excellent,” Thomas, said, shooting a sunny smile back over his shoulder, “now, we’re due downstairs in an hour, and I’m quite intrigued as to whether this shower’s big enough for two. Chop chop.”

James slumped back onto the bed with huff. That man was an absolute fucking menace, that he knew, but _God,_ did he love him.


	5. Wake Up (Canon Verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second fill for the prompt “You need to wake up, because I can’t do this without you.”
> 
> I'd really like to expand on this one when I have the time...

"You need to wake up, because I can't do this without you."

Thomas slowly came around from a pleasant night’s sleep, sheets bunched at his waist and arms around a pillow, and a very naked lieutenant in his bed. The length of their bodies were still pressed together, sleep warm, James’ arm firm around his middle and resting on his belly, stroking gently as he kissed at Thomas’ ear. It was these things that Thomas registered first, before his sleep-fogged head caught up, and made sense of the words James had just spoken.

“What can’t you do?” He opened his eyes, the grey of morning lighting the room. They’d neglected to close the curtains, though the day had dawned so dull and overcast, that his bedchamber was still dim. As James lay behind, Thomas wasn’t able to see him, but he could feel him; his weight dipping the mattress, their legs entwined, his ever cold feet tempered by James’ seeming ever warm ones. He shifted back, closer into him.

“Get dressed.”

Thomas snorted, trying belatedly to smother it into the pillow. _Ah. So that was his game._ “Oh?”

“It amuses you?"James said. Thomas could feel him smiling into the back of his neck.

"Of course not my dear. If you really need my help,” Thomas sat up, feigning nonchalance, to see James watching him with barely concealed amusement, “it would be absolutely rotten of me to refuse a man in need.”

Needless to say, they were both aware that James was perfectly capable of dressing himself. But it had become apparent to Thomas over the course of their affair that he loved to see James all pristine and tidy and buckled up in his uniform, and found the act of dressing him in it, fastening each tie and button and ensuring each crease lay smooth, was almost as erotic as taking it off. And James knew it.

“How generous of you, my lord,” he inclined his head, tousled hair falling over his shoulder.

“It’s not without it’s benefits,” said Thomas, “now, up you get, lieutenant.”

Mouth twisting briefly into a smile, James pushed himself up off the bed, unfolding, stretching the sleep out of his arms and back. As ever, Thomas’ gaze drifted to the shifting muscle of his shoulders as he did so, freckled and kept pale by long days hidden under the layers of his uniform. His attention moved further down as James turned to face him, coming to rest on his thighs, even paler than the rest of him where the skin was thinner, well muscled and dotted with more of those delightful freckles. More distracting was the mark Thomas had left there, a deep plum colour where he’d sucked and teased the skin with his teeth the night before, while James’ fingers tugged at his hair. 

“Come now my lord,” James said, effectively cutting short his reliving their evening together, “it’s not like you to keep a man waiting.”

“I apologise my dear, but you are terribly distracting,” Thomas said with an obvious flick of his eyes up and down the length of James’ body. “And I’m afraid there’s one more thing I must do before we begin.”

“Oh?” James raised an eyebrow, watching closely as Thomas got to his feet.

“Mm,” he stood before him, chilly in the early morning and bedroom carpet thick underfoot. He reached a hand up to run along James’ arm, up to his shoulder and neck, flesh pebbled from his touch and the coldness of the room. James was already leaning in to him, eyes cast down to Thomas’ lips as the latter wound his fingers in the curling hair come loose form James’ queue, easing him into a kiss.


	6. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a post from buildarocketboys about the lack of fic involving people tugging on James' lovely hair.  
> 

It would have been trite to say he’d wanted James since the moment he’d first set eyes on him. And also not true - while he’d been unable to help registering somewhere in the back of his mind that Lieutenant McGraw was attractive, once he’d realised who he was, he’d immediately dragged his thoughts out of the gutter and back to the task at hand. But, some weeks later, when he was better acquainted with the lieutenant, it became more difficult to keep entirely focused on their work. His attention would skip down to where James’ hand rested on the pommel of his sword, or to his mouth when the corner of his lip quirked up in a wry smile. And as he took his leave one evening, Thomas’ eye followed the back of his head, the coppery fall of his queue, and he longed to run his fingers through it, snag the soft-seeming strands between them.

“Fuck, Thomas…”

A few weeks later again, and Thomas’ longing had come to fruition.

“Fuck,” James hissed again, hands clenched hard about the bed sheets as he slid forward, knees falling further apart as Thomas seated himself more deeply within him.

“Hush,” Thomas said gently, though it was merely part of the game. Thomas liked to hear him curse, and James enjoyed the freedom to be heard. He ran his hand up James’ back, moving from the curve of his rear along the freckled expanse of his back, up to the slope of his shoulders, the sweat-damp back of his neck, finally curling his fingers into James’ hair, long since pulled loose from his queue. James was already breathing hard, but Thomas felt the hitch in his breath when he tugged at the locks between his fingers. It had turned out to be coarser than he’d expected, had more of a wave to it. It was beautiful.

“Oh, Christ.” James began to rock his hips back in hopes of matching Thomas’ rhythm, thighs straining, but Thomas wasn’t having it.

“Easy, lieutenant,” he said, mostly successful at keeping the tremor out of his voice, and wound James’ hair tighter about his fingers, pleased with himself at the choked sound that fell from James’ mouth as Thomas’ pinned him to the mattress by the scruff of his neck.

James seemed incapable of answering after that, only cursing when Thomas continued to pull at his hair, brought his other hand down to palm at the flesh of James’ backside, spreading him further.

James finished first, though Thomas was ashamed to say he missed most of it, the tension and tightness of his own body climbing to something almost unbearable as James gasped and moved beneath him, held in place by Thomas’ weight and his grip on his hair.

When their wits had returned, Thomas collapsed to lie next to James, pulling himself close so they lay face to face, legs threaded together.

“You’re stunning,” Thomas said, smoothing James’ hair back, running his fingers the length of it, catching where the curls had tangled in their exertions. 

“If that word fits anyone, it would be you,” James said in return. “Because I am stunned, truly, in your presence. I can scarcely move, or think, for the want of you.”

“James, I…” their romance was young enough still that James sometimes found it hard to express in words what he felt for Thomas. Thomas himself normally had no such trouble, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t caught off guard whenever James said something so sweet, so sincere. For once lost for words, Thomas was glad of the reprieve when James reached forward to kiss him.


	7. Unpacking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: how about Thomas lifting James and carrying him to bed?  
> ANON I was looking for an excuse to write some modern AU floof earlier and you have provided. Thanks :)

“Are you coming to bed?”

James didn’t bother looking up from the cardboard box of his belongings he was sorting through. “In a moment. I want to finish this.”

Thomas snorted. “There’s no way you can finish unpacking all of your earthly possessions tonight, James.”

He looked up to find Thomas watching him with amusement from the doorway. “No. But I can do this box.”

“It’s our first night officially living together under the same roof, and, my darling man, I’m not going to let you spend it sorting through old gas bills.”

“They’re bank statements, actually,” James said. “And we’ve been together for two years.”

“Yes, and living in separate houses.”

“Thomas,” James dropped a small stack of paper back into the box with the rest, “I’ve spent every night at yours for the last month at least - ”

“Come to bed,” Thomas cut across him. “Please? It’ll keep until morning.”

“Alright,” James agreed, both unable to resist Thomas’ request and too bone-tired to put up much of an argument, though it pained him not to have things in order. He ran a hand through his hair, the thought of clean sheets and soft pillows and Thomas wrapped around him in sleep more tempting by the moment. “Give me five minutes.”

“No,” Thomas said.

“What? I - ”

Before James could say another word, Thomas had crossed the room and swept one arm under the back of James’ knees and another around his back, pulling him up into his arms in a bridal lift.

“Thomas,” James said once he’d gotten his breath back, clinging on around Thomas’ neck in surprise at the sudden change in position, “what the fuck.”

“You’ve been up moving boxes since an ungodly hour this morning,” Thomas said, making his way through their new home towards the bedroom, “you need to get some rest.”

James laughed, and Thomas tightened his grip. “It’s usually me saying that to you.”

“I’m well aware,” Thomas said, kissing soft behind James’ ear, “so I think we can both agree it’s my turn to be the one fussing over you tonight.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to lift me like this,” James said.

“Oh?” The smirk in Thomas’ voice was plain, “I can hold you up against the wall easily enough, my dear. So why not like this?”

“I’m too tired for you to be so smug,” James grumbled, jerking his foot out of the way before Thomas hit it on the bedroom door frame.

“Not too tired, I hope,” Thomas said, depositing him on the bed with little ceremony and climbing atop him.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you come here and give me a kiss.”

“Gladly.” Thomas grinned and ducked down to do as he asked, and James was glad he’d abandoned the still packed box in favour of this.


	8. Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belated birthday ficlet for @lena221b, who is probably the most lovely, encouraging presence I’ve ever encountered. Thanks for being so great <3

James detested being late. Whether this efficiency had been trained into him by the navy or whether it was innate he didn’t know, but what he did know was that knocking on the Hamiltons’ door three hours after the promised time made him feel highly uncomfortable. He would have cancelled the call altogether if he hadn’t known Thomas would find that even more disappointing than his tardiness. And, if he were honest, it wasn’t an entirely selfless decision - he wanted to see Thomas just as much.  
The servants were accustomed to his presence by now, enough so that the footman who answered the door to him didn’t hesitate before greeting him and leading him up to Thomas’ rooms. He knocked, bowed politely to James, and left him waiting at the door.

“Come,” came Thomas’ voice from within, and James did as he was bid.

The room was lit only dimly, and James’ eye went straight to the bed and then the desk, expecting to find Thomas at either one. But both bed and desk were empty, and Thomas was instead lounging in a large copper bath by the fireplace.

“Lieutenant,” he said, visibly pleased by the sight of him, “I was beginning to fear you weren’t coming at all.”

“I - ” James hesitated. It shouldn’t have shocked him to see Thomas so, after all they had shared already, but to see him bathing seemed an act more intimate, more domestic, than the pleasure they took together. “I confess I did almost cancel. Admiral Hennessy kept me later than expected…” he trailed off, distracted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, nodding to the bath, “I can wait for you downstairs, or - ”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thomas cut across him, “come and sit.”

“Alright,” James said stiffly, and took the chair Thomas had gestured to by the side of the fire.

Despite his initial discomfort, James was soon put at ease by Thomas’ simple enquiries after his day, and telling him of another adjustment or two he had in mind for the proposal. The conversation ebbed back and forth between them as it always did, and James quite forgot Thomas’ state of undress. Or rather he had, until Thomas saw fit to bring it back to his attention. With a deep sigh of contentment, Thomas sank back further in the bath, drawing his legs from the water and slinging them over the side of the tub.

“I’ve often thought,” he said as he looked James over, eyes soft and heavy-lidded, “how well you look in those great boots of yours.”

James blinked, made stupid by the warmth of the room, Thomas’ comment, and the sudden appearance of his long, bare legs, slick with soap and water. “Oh?”

Thomas hummed, tilted his head in consideration. “Yes. In fact, I may ask you to leave them on for me, sometime, if you don’t object.”

“I’m sure I could be persuaded,” James managed, hoping he sounded more in control of himself than he felt.

“I imagine it’s well beyond your notice by now, but I can’t help but spend rather a lot of time admiring you,” Thomas said, “thinking on what lies underneath your uniform. The lovely thickness of your thighs, my dear, those delightful freckles over firm flesh. I see you sitting across from me in the library, or the dining room, and long to kiss along their expanse.”

“Then we’re clearly not working hard enough, if you’re distracted by such thoughts,” James said. They both knew it wasn’t true - it would be a miracle if he could tear Thomas away from his desk one moment sooner than he wished to leave it, not that he’d attempted it as of yet. “Though I admit, I’ve sometimes been preoccupied by similar thoughts.”

“Is that so?” Thomas said, before the teasing manner fell away almost entirely, and he looked at James with nothing but affection. “Come here?”

James stood and moved over to the bath, kneeling beside it without a moment’s hesitation. As he did so, his eye followed the length of Thomas’ body, right down to his toes where he’d stretched out over the rim of the bath. When he was standing he towered over James, who’d never felt particularly small in his life, until Thomas Hamilton had smiled down at him.

“I know I tease you,” Thomas said, reaching a wet hand out to James when he was settled by the side of the bath, “but really James, you mean more to me I could ever express.”

“You know I feel the same,” James said, somewhat gruffly, annoyed at his inability to say it in finer words. Water from Thomas’ fingers dripped down his sleeve.

“In that case,” Thomas pulled James’ hand closer to kiss across his knuckles, “if you’d be so kind as to help me out of the bath? Then we can further discuss those boots of yours, Lieutenant.”

James grinned. “Gladly, my lord.”


	9. Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19: Things you said when we were the happiest we've ever been. Modern AU cos I'm weak. I outdid myself with the fluff levels on this one. Thanks Lena :)))

"Come closer, I can't see you properly," Thomas called across the water.

"You should have worn your glasses." James adored Thomas in his glasses. Frankly, he adored him full stop, but there was just something about the way Thomas would peer at him over the top of the frames that made James love him all the more.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "In the sea?"

"Contacts then."

"James, please," Thomas said with disapproval that might have been believable if it wasn't for the smile that accompanied them. "I want to kiss you, and if you're all blurry I might mistake some poor innocent bystander for my ridiculously handsome boyfriend and kiss them instead."

"...There's no one else here."

"It's a risk I'm not willing to take."

"You're awful."

James gave up and swum the short distance to where Thomas was treading water, waiting for him. The sea was deliciously warm, the sand a yellow-white blur in the distance, and James was suddenly, blissfully happy that they'd decided to take a holiday. It'd been hard to tear Thomas away from his work long enough - though admittedly James wasn't much better - and it was mostly only due to Miranda threatening them both to take a break that they were there at all. 

"There you are," Thomas said when James drew close.

"Here I am," James agreed. "And I can assure you I'm not a disillusioned older woman on a singles cruise or some handsy lad on a stag party, so do feel free to kiss me at your leisure."

"Marry me."

James laughed, and got a fair bit of water up his nose for the trouble. It was only when he realised that Thomas wasn't joining him in his laughter that he stopped. Wait... "You're serious?"

"Of course," said Thomas serenely, looked mildly scandalised by the mere suggestion that he wasn't.

"Really?"

"Why not? I know how I feel, James. I've known long enough to be certain."

"I..." James dithered for a moment, before concluding that there was not a single reason why he'd ever want to say no to the man in front of him. "Alright."

Thomas beamed at him, evening sun so bright behind him that James had to look away. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Of course you fucking can, you - "

He didn't get another word out before Thomas had pulled him into a kiss, hands gripping at his shoulders, skin hot and tacky where the sun had dried the sea salt. James' hair was dripping down the back of his neck, in his eyes, the tang of salt water sharp between their lips as James cupped his hand over the wet skin of Thomas' cheek.


	10. Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14: Things you said after you kissed me. There's a billion more original ways I could have gone with this, but I picked post dining room snog because I don't think I've ever written about it before.

It would have been a lie to say that James had never been kissed before. There was Miranda for starters, sitting mere feet away from them at the dining room table, looking on as her husband kissed him. And before her, there'd been a handful of girls he'd let kiss him when he was younger, some because he wanted to and others on the understanding that he was supposed to. He'd not let a man kiss him before though. Whatever inexpert fumblings he'd played his part in in various ports or on shore leave over the years, were carried out without that particular intimacy. 

"I apologise," Thomas said thickly when they broke apart, "that was presumptuous of me."

"No," James said, dazed, hand tightening where it rested on Thomas' coat, overcome with the growing, childish fear that he would leave. "You took me by surprise, but it wasn't unwelcome," his voice felt weak and thin and not his own. "You must know that."

Thomas laughed quietly, a deep and soft hum that James felt through his chest. "You were surprised? And here I was, thinking my behaviour towards you over the past weeks painfully obvious."

"It was," Miranda stood, her smile genuine, but sad and tight at the edges. "I'll give you a moment." She left the dining room with a rustle of silk. They would have to talk about it to some degree, though James had no damned idea what he would say, but he was immensely glad Miranda knew now was not the time to do it. He turned back to Thomas.

"Poor wording on my part," James said, wracking his befuddled head to think of something better. "I saw it, and I discounted it. Told myself it wasn't possible, that you could think of me in such a way."

"Oh, James."

"I knew it was there, I just..." In truth, when he'd first begun to truly know Thomas he'd not thought himself worthy of his attentions in any way other than as a sort of employee. Later on, and he'd grown accustomed to the thought of Thomas as his friend, though the term still sat oddly with him. But never this. He'd never dreamt of it. "I've been telling myself so firmly that I was imagining it, that now I'm finding it hard to believe."

"Believe this," Thomas said and kissed him again, light and quick, leaving James to chase after him. "Believe me, James."

"We'll have to be careful." He'd tried to be discreet with Miranda, unwilling to do any further damage to the reputation of husband or wife, but this...

"Oh, hang careful," Thomas said, and James couldn't help but wince at his choice of words.

"Thomas - "

"For tonight at least," he said, more softly, taking both of James' hands in his, "the curtains are closed and the doors are locked, and as far as I'm concerned, there's no one else in the world but you and I."

It was James that kissed Thomas, the second time.


	11. Jumpers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lena221b asked: “I got you a Christmas sweater!” + flinthamilton for reasons :)))
> 
> Thanks for indulging my need for James in jumpers Lena <3 And I couldn’t help but think of this post of yours as I wrote it. https://lena221b.tumblr.com/post/165022746675/flinthamilton-softness-vol-2

“Hello,” the moment Thomas came in the door, coat and scarf still on and trailing the smell of cinnamon and cold night air in from his trip late night shopping, he ducked down to kiss James where he sat in the living room.

“Hello,” Thomas’ nose was cold where it pressed against his cheek. “Successful trip?”

“Very much so,” Thomas beamed and set down numerous bags by the fireplace, “just about everybody’s crossed off the list now. And I got you a Christmas jumper.”

“…What?”

“A Christmas jumper,” still grinning, Thomas delved into the mass of shopping bags and triumphantly produced a - sort of - tasteful festive jumper. It was a dark, Christmas tree green, dotted with white snowflakes and prancing red reindeer. “Green’s always been my favourite on you.”

James wasn’t ashamed to admit his smile was partially due to a sense of relief - it was far more conservative than he might have expected, given Thomas’ past forays into Christmas themed clothing. “It’s a little more… more, than I’d normally go for,” he said as he stood to take it from Thomas to inspect it more closely, “but that’s probably a good thing. I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Thomas said, wrapped his arms around James’ middle to reel him in for a kiss, smiling against James’ lips. It was impossible to get rid of it; he always seemed to smile through the whole of December. Unless someone brought up his father that was, which James had absolutely no intention of doing.

“You taste of doughnuts,” James said when they broke apart, licking the phantom taste of sugar and spices from his lips.

“Yes,” Thomas said, as James kissed the tip of his still-cold nose, “I would have saved you one, but you don’t like them.”

James huffed in amusement. “Fair enough. It’s the thought that counts.”

“But,” Thomas said as he eased himself out of James’ loose grip, “I do have something else.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm,” Thomas bent to pull another item from the cluster of bags, “I got myself a new jumper too.” He held it up proudly for James’ inspection.

“Oh God.”

Frankly, it was a monstrosity. The majority of it was navy blue, which James happened to think suited Thomas quite well, but it was only downhill from there. Front and centre was a rather demonic looking Santa, the red of his hat eyewateringly bright, and trimmed with faux fur. There was glitter; actual twinkly, sparkling glitter that caught the light when Thomas moved and gave James sudden vivid flashbacks of primary school art lessons. Worst of all was the fact that when Thomas pressed a button concealed somewhere in the sleeve, a host of tiny LED lights came on, flashing alternate green and red, almost aggressive in their cheerfulness. 

“It’s not subtle, I know,” Thomas said as he looked at it fondly, “but I couldn’t resist. I got one for Blackbeard too, if we can persuade him into it.”

James gaped at him. Throughout their two, blissful years of marriage, James had never known him say something so fucking ridiculous. And he was a politician. “You got a Christmas jumper for the cat?”

“Of course,” Thomas said, as though it were James who was being daft, “any idea where he is?”

As it turned out, they couldn’t get the cat to come out from under the bed. James couldn’t say he blamed him.

Which meant it was only the two of them, each wrapped up in their brand new jumpers, in the pictures that Thomas snapped on his phone. They always did it that way - James had a steadier hand, but Thomas longer arms. A good three quarters of the photos were useless; blurred where they jostled each other, one of them blinking or slightly out of frame. But the rest were nice. Sweet in a way James hadn’t known he was capable of before Thomas, the latter still wearing that unshakeable December smile as he pressed kisses to James’ cheek, or forehead, the corner of his mouth, while James himself bit at his lip to keep from laughing, and leaned in closer.


End file.
